blow--and I lay on the ground, the horse struggling on top of me. I tried, vainly, to rise and remount; but my right arm hung useless, and I felt dizzy and weak, while my good horse still struggled on the ground. Yet the enemy were coming. I dragged myself quickly down the bank, at the foot of which ran a little stream. As I reached it, I heard the gallop of horses on the hill above me. "My sabre," I said, "must not fall into their hands." I unbuckled it quickly, and gave it a last look. It was the parting gift of my best friends, and had been my constant companion by day and by night. I could not bear to part with it thus. For an instant I hesitated. "Perhaps they will not see me," I said; "but no, the risk is too great; whatever happens to me, they shall not have the sabre." A log lay across the brook. I leaned forward, and under its shadow, threw the sabre in. It splashed in the dark water and was gone. "Shall I throw my pistol after it? No! it will be but a pistol more for the Confederacy. Here they come." I stretched myself close beside the bank, and the party of horsemen galloped by. IX. THE ESCAPE. I was now alone in the quiet woods. The sounds of trampling horses had died away, and the little rill beside me trickled peacefully in the still night. I reached my hand down, and, filling my glove with water, poured it over my face. It was cool and refreshing, and in a few moments I was able to rise. I looked at the stream--at the log, beneath which lay my sabre--and at the tree, beneath which lay my horse; and then, making an effort, I stepped upon the log, and crossed into the thick brushwood on the other side. But a few steps were taken when I was glad to sit down upon a fallen tree. I felt stunned and faint, yet hoped I was gathering strength and would soon be able to go on. As I was thus seated the question arose, What should I do? Fort Henry, I knew, was eastward of me. Should I go there?--it was but thirty-five or forty miles. No! the country between must be swarming with rebels. Should I go to Paducah? It was sixty miles northward, and the enemy would, doubtless, follow in that direction. Should I remain hidden in the woods, trusting to their leaving in a few days? Should I crawl to some barn or stack, and take the chance of their not searching it? Would my strength hold out if I went on? and would the fractured bone, that I felt under my coat, and the growing pain in my side, do without the surgeon's care till I could make my way out? At length I decided on my course: I would go northward till daylight, and thus be some miles ahead; then I would turn eastward, and thus place myself on one side of their probable line of march. During the next day I hoped to meet a contraband, and, obtaining information, then decide whether to continue eastward, toward Fort Henry, or turn northward again to Paducah.